“Well, to tell you the truth I retired today. I will no longer be sent into places of death to kill those that are worse. Someone else can go in and take care of people like that. The reason they don’t want to just drop a fucking bomb is that they are too damn scared of pissing off politicians or letting people know that America doesn’t agree with how they are treating their citizens. No, they’d rather try and keep things looking civilized and be able to blame the killings on the people revolting against those that have done wrong.”
“So, you looking for a job then?”
Gabriel sat back, closing his eyes for the first time in days. “No, I think that I’m going to take a little vacation first and then after that, yes, I might need to get a job or two lined up. I can assume that my credentials will be plenty enough to get me set up, right?”
Forsyth pulled a cigar and handed one to Gabriel. He lit a wood match and rolled the cigar until the end glowed. “You know you're going to need someone in the beginning to help you get going.”
Gabriel nodded his head. “Yeah, I can see that being necessary. You have time to do your flight duties and be a handler?”
Forsyth took a pull off of the cigar and said, “Well, I can assure you safe passage from one country to another because of my own particular skill set, which may enough for you to consider me. I know that I can sell the shit out of a highly trained ex-spook who has got more kills under his belt than the bird flu. I got to ask you one question, though.”
Gabriel, who was near sleep, said, “What’s that?”
“How the hell did you ever get into this line of work?”
Gabriel looked over and said, “I don’t like those who hurt others.”
He took off his weapons, setting them on the ground and pulled off his sweat-soaked fatigue jacket. He reclined his seat, thinking of his past and not wanting to thank Forsyth for the unpleasant dreams he was about to have.
Chapter 1
09/22/17 4:00 AM
I did not want to look at the family huddled in the corner any longer, so instead I looked around the room, whistling the theme song to “The Wizard of OZ”. I walked nonchalantly around the darkened room, lit only by the small Tiffany lamp sitting on the edge of a hand crafted oak table. I saw everything that meant something to this family, and it was all quite expensive. I knew that if it were mine I’d send it to a high-end auction house or possibly start my own EBay store. There was a touch of moonlight shining through the space left by the open plantation shutters. It reflected off the little crystal bunnies arranged on a wall shelf. I was beginning to feel at home here. It had been the better part of the night since supper, and we were working our way toward the wee morning hours just before sunrise. Time was a commodity I did not intend to waste. I touched my gloved finger to a few ornate crystal bunnies, then picked one up. I gazed at it and then held it up for the woman to see. I nodded approvingly and set back it down as delicately as I had picked it up. “Exquisite!”
The room was straight out of Architectural Digest. It was very stereotypical. It was exactly how people with little money envision the lives of the rich. If anything in here was even remotely sentimental to them I would be amazed. There weren’t a lot of heirlooms from Grandmother sitting around in this area of the house. The majority of what was in here had been chosen by a decorator during the last few years. I imagined the fury of the mother when one of the two small children came running into this place like possessed heathen.
Even in the sparsely lit room you could sense the amount of money that was spent. There were a variety of modern paintings on the wall, ornately carved glass showcases to display little birds, and crystal vases that would never be used for anything other than to elicit compliments and the adoration of friends and colleagues. A case filled with watches by makers I could not, nor wanted to learn how to pronounce, but most it seemed were Italian and French. Apparently he missed the memo on the Swiss and their aptitude for watch making. All of the items in the room were prominently displayed.
The wealthy very rarely surprised me. It always goes back to upbringing. I believe if you were born with money and never had a reason to be hungry, it would be a difficult task to sympathize. What does amaze me, however, is instead of saving their money they simply find new trinkets to spend it on, and it’s a pity really. If I had that kind of wealth I would live modestly, find worthy charities, and donate my time and extra money to them.
I turned back to the family tied up in the corners of the room. A sting of guilt hit me that was unfamiliar and totally unlike me. I shook it off, remembering one must do what one must in order to survive. I stared at the dad tied to the chair. I felt worse about him because wounding a man’s pride and will in front of his family seemed to me to be one of the worse things I could do. I was basically breaking his spirit. It was just unfortunate for this family that they had to be a part of it tonight. But if not them, then who? Did some other family deserve this? , I think not. As bad as it might sound, this was in no way the worse thing I could do to someone; far from it really. I walked over and sat next to the dad and put my arm around him. “Are we going to make it through this calm, cool, and collected Mr. President?”
He looked at me with bloodshot eyes full of fear and hatred. He started screaming at me, but it was impossible to make out any words because of the tape over his mouth. “Did you want to a have word with me, Mr. President?”
He started bucking back and forth; I ripped the tape off of his mouth quickly, like a Band-Aid. “So what’s on your mind; are you ready to change your ethics for a few hours if it will save your family from having to deal with the repercussions of you being so hard headed?”
He started bucking and thrashing wildly at me again. He was so pissed I could barely comprehend what he was saying, “If I ever find out who you are I am going to hunt you to the ends of the earth, do you understand me?”
I patted the chunky part of his belly. “I am terrified Mr. President, but there is no end of the earth remember? It’s round. I guess it’s time to start talking to la familia.”
Very lightly and very controlled he whispered. “If you touch one hair on my children’s head you will regret it for the rest of your life; you don’t know what I am capable of.”
“Now that’s the spirit sir, but what we need is a little bit more of a cooperative attitude. You know maybe we could say glass half full as opposed to half empty, how’s that sound?”
I held up my arm and pulled back my sleeve. “Do you see this right here, under the ink, aka tattoos, those are goose bumps; I am absolutely sure of it. I just got excited I think, you sounded so in charge Mr. President. Really listen to yourself, “’if you touch one hair on my children’s head’...” But I think for you what would happen is you would stay tied to this chair, if you started yelling, I would duct tape your mouth again. So I don’t really see a point in touching their hair, but if I did you could not do anything about it. If you’d like me to, I can leave your family out of it. Maybe you would rather I just talk to you, but will it do any good? So far you are not playing nice. Do you concur?”
The bank president, a man who was used to people being very interested in what he thought and what he wanted, refused to answer. I shrugged and walked over to his wife. I stood up, feeling the effects of the day in my spine, and stretched my back out. I twisted to each side and rolled my head in circles so I could get the blood going again. I walked around the room. I had been going round and round with the same questions for six hours. I had to get through this next day, if it didn’t happen my life would never be the same. This guy wasn’t budging so I thought maybe it was time to talk to the rest of the family. I sat down next to the wife, stretched my legs out, and crossed my feet. In a ‘we’re all just buddies here’ kind of a way I rested my head on her shoulder. “Mrs. President, I am out of patience, I am tired; I think you’re tired, I know the kids are, and by the sound of your lesser half’s stomach, I think she’s just hungry. I’m going to have to up the ante just a little bit to get things moving, I think. So I am going to cover the kid’s eyes so we can get the ball rolling.”
The wife, who had seemed oblivious up until now, looked at me, and like a perfect playback of her husband and began, “I will hunt you...”
I cut her off. I simply didn’t have the patience for this, so I finished her thought; “Yes, yes you will hunt me to the ends of the earth which I assume you think is flat as well. You could hunt me to the end of America, it does end;, I mean unless maybe I head south or north but that is a geographical conversation with too many maybes to deal with.”
“Could you possibly be anymore rude, really? Just take what you want and leave. I don’t understand what you’re trying to accomplish anyway.”
I was in shock and a little discouraged to discover she was actually as ditzy as she pretended not to be. “Regina, now really, if you still think I am here to rob the place you might need to re-examine the situation. If I was going to steal something don’t you think in the last eight hours I’d have, I don’t know, taken something out to a car or van? Or gone off looking for your super-secret safe that holds all your precious items?
She responded as smugly as she could. “Well, if you aren’t here to rob us and my husband won’t agree to do what you want, then how do you expect to get anything from him or me?”
I patted her thigh, which made her visibly flinch; I hopped up and slid eye and ear covers over the children. “Well, funny thing about bank presidents Regina… it is ok that I call you Regina isn’t it; we're all friends here right? So, anyway, the thing about presidents of banks is they usually follow the model set by government presidents. Usually, where you find a president you can find, would you like to guess Regina? Yes! That’s right, you find a vice president, so if I kill you-know-who.” I used my left hand to block my right as I pointed to the president and then put my finger over my mouth in a “hush” gesture. “If I killed you-know-who then I could drive ten miles to his vice president’s house and do this same thing. I am pretty sure if I cut off your husband’s hand and took it with me to present to the vice president, that would be the all-time great motivator, don’t you think?
She looked at me, then looked at her husband, then looked back at me; apparently she was deciding something and was coming to the strong realization that maybe I wasn’t completely full of shit. I hopped up and Regina calmly asked her husband, “Honey, maybe we should you know…do what he wants. He might go easier on you dear.”
He looked at her wild-eyed. “For the last damn time, Regina, I am in no way going to jeopardize my reputation at the bank.”
Now she had eyes filled with hatred, but she wasn’t looking at me, she was looking at him. “Oh for God’s sakes, just do what he wants! What are your morals going to matter when you’re dead you arrogant idiot! You don’t have morals, you have a job, and you don’t think you’ll exist without it. It isn’t like the stockholders wouldn’t understand
Gerald
.” She practically spat out his name.
I clapped my hands towards her, doing a little jump in the air. “Oh, Regina baby, I didn’t know you had that kind of fire in you.”
She covered her eyes and began to cry loudly. “If you can’t do it for me, then maybe you could do it for your children who shouldn’t have to suffer for what your career choices have led you to.”
Now Gerald was insane with fury; not only had I broken into his house, held him and his family hostage, but now I had also turned his wife against him. The same wife who just a few hours ago was standing beside her husband laughing at me because in her perfect bubble-world this type of thing didn’t happen. Therefore, if this wasn’t allowed in her world, then I couldn’t do anything to hurt her or her family. I had her at the point now where I needed her because her “knight in shining armor” of a husband wouldn’t break some fake code of ethics. She was crying uncontrollably and screaming that he needed to do what I said.
“Can you imagine what would happen if I went through with it? It’s not even an option! You don’t get to this place in life without dealing with a few bullies.”
I was shocked this cocky moron was more worried about his job than his family. “Do I look like a bully to you Gerald!?” I was now just short of blind rage. I was threatening his wife, his family, and now his life, and he was worried about his fucking job. This guy was only one of about fifty obstacles keeping me from my son. It was in no way this guy’s fault and he didn’t deserve to have me here doing this, but at the same time, I was here for circumstances that I didn’t deserve either. His problems and my problems were on two different playing fields and mine were taking priority. I looked around and grabbed a phone book, the closest object I could reach, and threw it like a softball pitch at warp speed in to his gut. You could hear the book cut through air and feel Gerald’s air forced from his lungs, not for the last time tonight.
He started coughing, and coughing hard, saying, “You son of a bitch.”
“How about survival instincts Gerald, let me ask you just one more time, are you going to do what I ask?”
Gerald was fighting back puking, but he actually laughed, which made me laugh. I laid my hand on his shoulder and he cringed. I smiled thinking,
maybe he isn’t quite as tough as he thinks he is.
“Do you have your breath back yet Gerald?”
He shook his head no, panting heavily. “Why? What the hell are you going to do you sick son of a bi….”
I got right down to eye level with him and stared at Regina. “I really wish he would have listened to you Regina.” I looked him straight in the eyes unblinking. “This is your last chance, will you do what I asked or not? It’s a simple yes or no answer, but I am giving you a final warning that if you say no, the next four minutes of your life will be the most absolutely horrific and painful of your entire pathetic life.”
Just as I thought he was about to finally give in, he looked at me and smiled. “Go to hell.”
I whipped out an oversized plastic zip lock bag and shoved it over his head. I let it sit there for a minute letting him get that hot humid feeling on his skin from his own breathing. His eyes went large, but they got even bigger when I pulled the zip tie cuff from my pocket and slid it over his head making it tight around his neck, making sure no air was getting in or out. I sat nonchalantly on his lap, trying to keep my cool. I rested my elbow on his shoulder and my head in my hand as if I was bored. He was wiggling and trying to jump with his chair. I sat there as calm as could be for twenty-five seconds then pulled out a watch and held it up for his eyes to see.
Loudly I yelled. “Gerald, we’re at about thirty seconds right now. How are we doing old chap, any change of heart yet?”
Gerald was absolutely losing his mind, bucking and rocking the chair. Shaking his head as hard and fast as he could. I checked again… it was forty seconds… fifty seconds, I was sure his lungs felt like acid had been poured down them. I pulled out my knife, showed it to him, and gently cut a 1-inch hole through the bag. The bag was filled with steam from the lack of air and spittle all across the front. I held the hole open for a moment, letting Gerald catch his breath. The bag went in and out as he sucked the sweet, fresh, cool air into his lungs; I don’t think he had been to the club for racquetball in a few weeks. I looked at the wife whose tears were flowing freely, she had snot running from her nose, and she was physically shaking. This might not make the best time to do that family Christmas card, especially with the kids tied up and their ears and eyes covered. I was unsure if she was worried for him, or for her and her children. I didn’t believe she was as strong as her husband, or maybe they had just been together so long she knew he wouldn’t give in, and I didn’t have a clue where to get a dead man’s hand to scare the VP with at this time of the night. I cut a second hole next to his ear. “Gerald do you think maybe we can see eye to eye now?”